Deep Water - Beginning
by Tania
Summary: Four-year-old Leila is left wandering the streets with no family, no home. How will she survive? This is her story...


# Deep Water - part One

## Tania Walker

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Part One: Beginning

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_DISCLAIMER: Original Mighty Ducks characters, and the concept of Puckworld, the Saurians and the Resistance are copyright the Walt Disney Corporation, and used without permission.  
  
Nylessa Drakeley is copyright Vicki Eden, used with permission.  
  
All other original characters are copyright Tania Walker.   
  
Finally, this story is a fictional work. All resemblance to any characters living or dead is purely coincidental.   
  
Actually, it isn't. Without acting as clear models for any single character, all the people I have ever known, great souls and not-so-great alike, made their mark on my life. With love and respect, I honor those who made their mark a good one.  
  
_  
  
  
_A shout. Explosions, like thunder. No, too fast, and brief, and close, and loud to be thunder. Three of them, at first. A short pause. A high scream.  
  
The little girl sat bolt upright, and the scream came again. "Downstairs" she thought fuzzily. "Mommy?"   
  
Confused and tired, she stumbled out of bed. The high-pitched scream came again, a sobbing shriek, sounds of scrambling feet and a muttered curse in a man's voice the child had never heard before  
  
She pushed open her bedroom door and peeked out.  
  
Her mother ran up the stairs, wearing her long, white nightgown. In the dim light, she looked like an angel, or a ghost. Her wildly curling red hair tumbled down her back and flew around her face as she ran. Another thunder-boom came after her, and she jerked once. A bloody hole appeared in her stomach, and little red droplets hit the clean white wall at the top of the stairs, sprinkled like so many stars. The child didn't understand, even then.  
  
The woman's hands went to the hole, and she stared down in astonishment for a moment. A moment later her knees buckled, and slowly, ever so slowly, she fell forward, ending up slumped on her face at the top of the staircase.  
  
Frightened, the little girl pushed the door open more. She knew that something was very, very wrong her mother lay so very still, and there was so much blood. And blood didn't come from nowhere. The child crawled out of her bedroom and peeked through the railings on the landing.  
  
Her father lay sprawled on the tiles below, lying as still as her mother. Nearby were three strange men, talking. One of them was talking in a high, scared voice.  
  
"You shot her! You shot her!" he squealed at the bigger of the other two men.  
  
"Shut the hell up! You screwed this one up bigtime, you little freak!"  
  
The other man, who's been silent, growled, "Shut up the pair of you! We've gotta make sure this place is clear. McFly, you pick up the drugs. Kid, you set up a burn. We'll torch the evidence, got it? Get this right, kid, and no-one'll ever be the wiser. I'll search the place."  
  
The other two nodded, and headed off. The last man looked up, right towards where the child was hiding, and she froze. But his gaze passed her by, and she relaxed. Safe, for now. But that man had looked nasty alright and the little girl decided to hide, just in case.  
  
She crawled towards her parent's bedroom, because she always felt safer in there. Their bed was very low to the ground, and the child looked at it for a moment. She couldn't get on it by herself but, she was just small enough to squeeze underneath. And so she did.  
  
Soon enough, his footsteps reached the door. He walked around the room for a bit, opening cupboards and drawers. He paused at one, and the little girl heard the jingle of her mother's jewellery, the expensive stuff she wasn't supposed to play with. The man chuckled softly, and the child heard him scoop up the jewellery. She saw his silhouette at the door, tucking something into a pouch at his side. He stood for a time, casting a final look around the room. Then he closed the door with a soft click, and was gone.  
  
She stayed, still and silent, under the bed for a long time. She could hear quiet voices below, from the crack under the bedroom door, but the words were unclear. Soon even the voices faded, and with the slam of a door were gone.   
  
Another indeterminable amount of time passed, and the child gathered up her courage and scrambled from her hiding place, crawling on her hands and knees across the thick carpet as she'd done as a baby. She had to get to her parents her mother, with her snowy white feathers, and long, slim arms, her cool fingers, her gentle touch. Her sweet face and soft voice reached out to the child, and she knew that if she got to her mother everything would be fine.   
  
She reached the door and scrambled to her feet, too absorbed in her mission to notice the strange, choking smell in the air. As she stood, she braced herself against the door - and pulled her hand back with a sharp gasp. The door was hot burning hot.  
  
Trapped.  
  
"Daaaaaddyyyyy!!" she shrieked. Surely he would come, he always came, to comfort with his large dark grey hands and his rumbly voice. Maybe he would come and put her back to bed and sing her the special song Her song. She backed away from the hot door, and now she could see the tendrils of smoke edging under the door, and she knew she was in danger. How or why she didn't understand, but she _knew_  
  
She crawled up onto the bed and curled there, trembling. Her father didn't come, so she sang to herself. "Layla" she hummed the rest, because she only knew the chorus, and her voice was too shaky anyway. It sounded a little bit like her name.  
  
But the song didn't keep back the rising heat and the choking smoke. The child began to gasp for breath.  
  
Trapped have to get out  
  
Her daddy wasn't going to come, not now anyway. He was still and cold on the tiles below. He was fast asleep and she had to go wake him up. But she couldn't go through the normal door Even now, she could see the strange, flickering light underneath it. Something bad was out there, bad and hellish, and it was coming for her  
  
The little girl scrambled from the bed and ran to the window, half-open to the night air. But she couldn't reach. Her gaze fell upon the bureau beneath the window, and she pulled open the bottom drawer then the next one up, a little less and then the top. Even through her fear she was pleased with herself as she scrambled up her makeshift staircase. Her daddy would be proud.  
  
She sat on the window ledge, dangling her feet over. The air was bitingly cold outside, and all she was wearing was a thin nightie. She froze for one moment, now knowing what to do she was too high up, and it was so cold... but back inside, over her shoulder, was the hungry heat and she could see the brass doorknob melting  
  
A loud siren pierced the night, and effectively made the decision for her. The child jumped in fright, her hands slipped - and she fell. She hit a sloping overhang halfway down, knocking the wind out of her but leaving her otherwise unharmed. Before she had a chance to get her breath back, she was sliding down the steep incline, and the thick snowdrifts below were rushing up to meet her  
  
  
She slept oh, for a long time she slumbered. It was so warm, so safe here in the dark but warmth brought death, and she forced herself awake. Sirens pierced the air, flashing lights were everywhere. Her head throbbed and ached, and her thoughts were confused. She was in an alleyway and the place beside her seemed familiar but it was burning, the biggest bonfire the child had ever seen. She stood staring dreamily at it for a while, then turned and wandered away down the alley, away from all the light and sounds and shouting voices. She walked, and no-one saw her. No-one saw the tiny, silver-grey duckling stumbling away in the snow, into the darkest alleys of Keltor.  
  
She walked.  
  
  
_Sixteen year old Ash Buzzard poked the small bundle with the toe of his boot, his friends crowding around for a look.   
  
"Man, what is it? A fel? Is it dead?"  
  
The bundle moved, and moaned, and Ash jumped back and collided with one of the younger kids in the group. "Ow! Geez"  
  
The younger girl he'd hit steadied herself and came forward. "It's a godsdamn kid" she muttered, pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. She crouched next to the shape - the early dawn light making the twelve-year-old look like a kind of guardian angel - and shook it. "Hey, wake up kid!"  
  
The shape moved again, and moaned.   
  
  
The child opened her eyes. She was cold deathly cold. She'd never been so cold before or had she? She wasn't sure. She remembered heat  
  
She turned her sore neck slightly, feeling someone shaking her. A face came into view a girl, older than her, but not a grown-up. Her feathers were snowy white, her hair blonde she seemed familiar. But her fingers were warm and a little sticky, the face was gaunt and wide-eyed, and the hair was cut raggedly. The familiar feeling faded.   
  
"She's awake!" the girl said, staring right back at her.  
  
"You okay kid?" Another person came into the child's field of vision. A boy, this time, and older. A nearly-grown-up. His feathers were a blotchy brown and grey, and his eyes were very black and turned up at the edges. "Where in Drake's name did ya come from, eh?" The accent was stronger on him than it had been on the girl.  
  
She sat up slowly, helped by the girl. Looking around, she saw a group of ragged kids looking right back at her, staring, and it was making her uncomfortable. She hid her face in the blonde girl's gaunt chest. "Want my mommy"  
  
Ash watched as the girl hugged the child to her, watched the curiously protective look on her face. "Ohh no. Lexi, you ain't keepin' her, alright? This ain't a stray fel, this is a kid! She got parents lookin' fer her!"  
  
Alexia hugged the little girl tighter to her. "She's all alone, Ash! She ain't got no-one lookin' out fer her! If her parents care so much, where are they?"  
  
The older duck shook his head. "Lexi" She stared up at him, her eyes very dark and wide. He softened. "We'll look after her, get her warm an' dry. But then we take her to the police, alright?"  
  
Alexia looked as if she were about to object, then closed her beak with a snap and nodded meekly. "Sure thing, Ash"  
  
  
Alexia carried the sleeping child, and the gang of teens clustered around them protectively as they walked. Ash led, looking a little disgruntled. He couldn't help feeling as though something had changed, without him knowing how or why. But little Lexi was happy, and the older boy was glad. It was so hard to make the young girl smile. Looking after some lost kid for a day or so was a small price to pay.  
  
A small alarm went off in the back of his head as the latter thought passed. _'What makes you so sure it's just gonna be a day?'_ _  
  
'Because we're gonna get her to the police. Make findin' her no-good parents their problem.' _he answered himself.  
  
It niggled at him all the way home.  
  
  
Home was an abandoned, decrepit building, shared by Ash's small group and a few lone homeless. It was dank, dark and cold, but better than the snow-covered Keltor streets. Ash looked proudly around the room his group had claimed for their own. Each of them had a bed of rags or mattresses discarded by the more picky members of wealthy society, and the old posters and coloured graffiti over the walls brightened the place up. The floor was dry and dusty, and sounds echoed too easily, but it was a fine place to call home.  
  
They lay the child on Alexia's mattress, and Alexia covered her with her own ragged blanket. She shivered, even with the blanket. Her thin nightie was full of holes. Lexi pulled a sweater out from under the mattress and pulled the child's nightie off, swapping it for the oversize sweater. She held up the torn garment, frowning. "What is this? Silk? Who the hell dresses a kid in silk, huh?"  
  
Ash shook his head. "Someone well off" he muttered. "Lex, we gotta make sure this kid gets back to her parents, right?"  
  
The girl opened her mouth to say what? Afterwards, Ash had always wondered. But he'd never know, because at that moment the child stirred and woke up.   
  
"Mommy?"  
  
He watched as Alexia knelt beside her, giving her a reassuring hug. For the first time he was able to get a clear look at her. She was an unusually light grey abnormally light. Unless she was half-caste. One grey parent, one white. A Nijro and Korsain mix. Ash was himself a Nijro - Mayalan mixbut neither side was pure. And it didn't look so attractive on him. Instead of mixing to make a grey-brown, his feathers had blotched and dappled colors on them. The child, on the other hand, was evenly colored a light grey. Silver yes, even in this light, her feathers were plainly silver.   
  
She turned her head to look around and met his gaze. The color of her eyes astonished him, but proved her heritage in his mind - pure-blood Nijros never have blue eyes. And her eyes were a deep, vibrant blue. Almost purple-blue.  
  
Her hair was long, thick and black, curling wildly towards the ends. _'Not good fer the streets'_ he thought to himself. _'She's gonna need ta be able ta run, an' hide, an' climb. Long hair'll get in the way we gotta cut it short-'_ Ash suddenly realised what he was thinking, and silently cursed himself. There was no way they were taking a four year old into the gang. They couldn't support her, and she certainly couldn't support herself. She'd be better off in an orphanage.  
  
Ash recalled his experiences in orphanages with a grimace. _'Or not.'_ He sighed inwardly.  
  
"Lexi, ask the silver kid what her name is," he said quietly, thinking. Perhaps they could keep her, and just look out for missing notices on holo-V and radio and if no-one listed her as missing  
  
_'Yer bein' a fool, Ash,'_ he reprimanded himself. He decided to let the issue drop for a while, and perhaps talk it over with some of the others. But later.  
  
Alexia was murmuring the question to the child now, and the child mumbled something back.  
  
"What'd she say?" Ash pressed.  
  
Alexia looked up with a strange expression on her face, a mixture of puzzlement and pity. "She she says she don't know."  
  
  
Two months later  
  
"Okay." Ash frowned, peering out from the alleyway. "This guy's a sap, should be easy ta nab, right? Duane, approach this one from behind. We're gonna do finesse, not muscle today, got it? You know what ta do." The thirteen year old nodded, his task very clear. Duane Wingbite, small and dark brown with quick darting eyes and hands, was the grab man of the group, and useful for this type of job.   
  
Ash turned to look at the gang's youngest members. The distraction. "Lexi, you an' deSilver know the drill?"   
  
Alexia nodded. "Same as always," she sighed. "We gotta get us a new routine one o' these days, Ash."  
  
He grinned. "It works, don't it?" He covered up his nervousness as he watched deSilver. That was the name they'd given to the small child who'd come amongst them a few months ago now The gang had taken to calling her "kid", and as that wasn't specific enough, "the silver kid". Unfortunately, Ash's strong Keltorian accent coupled with Lexi's tendency to give nicknames had resulted in the child being called "deSilver". Not an attractive name, but it had stuck irrevocably.  
  
Ash focussed his attention back on the icy Keltorian street, and on the hot-dog peddlar pushing his cart - on hover plates - up the snowy sidewalk. The hoverplates were playing up, and he cursed them loudly and aimed a kick at the already dented side of the cart. The old radio balanced on top of the cart teetered and almost fell, but the music played on. The weather was more miserable than usual, and the street was practically empty. The hot dog vendor carried his day's earnings in a pouch around his waist. Perfect.  
  
Duane had crossed the road and was nonchalantly walking along the other side of the street, casting the occasional glance at the vendor and waiting for Ash's go-ahead. Alexia and deSilver were waiting just around the corner, ready to step out and do their part.   
  
Ash watched closely as Alexia came around the corner and approached the hot dog vendor, little deSilver in tow. The young child was sobbing pitifully.  
  
"Excuse me, mister!" Alexia called to the man. "We're lost. I don't know where my uncle is" she started to sniffle. "I was s'posed ta be lookin' after my cousin, an' now we're both lost an' I'm gonna get in trouble" her voice faded out and she sniffled and wiped her eyes.  
  
The child was crying harder, and the man crouched down beside the pair. "What's your name?" he asked Alexia. She was almost inaudible now, and he had to lean in close to hear her.  
  
Time to strike. Ash gave Duane a small wave, and he quietly crossed the street diagonally, back to this side but behind the vendor, and so far out of his sight. He looked completely nonchalant, yet his steps were silent.   
  
Ash waited, tense. His job was one of backup. If anything went wrong, he had to be on the scene. After all, a twelve-year-old and four-year-old were both in danger out there.  
  
But they needed the money.  
  
Ash stepped out and strolled down the street. Duane was creeping up on the guy from behind. And the vendor was still listening to Alexia's sobbed-out tale.  
  
Duane reached the vendor, and crouched to undo the clip which held his money belt on. It came undone, and Duane held the ends together so the vendor wouldn't feel it go loose. He nodded to the two girls.  
  
Ash went into action. "I've been looking for you two everywhere!" he scolded, and ran up to scoop up deSilver. Alexia tensed and the vendor started to stand.   
  
Duane flicked the belt off, tucked it to his chest and bolted. Ash and Alexia both took off in opposite directions at the same moment, leaving the vendor standing stunned for a full five seconds.  
  
"YOU KIDS!! STOP!!"  
  
Suddenly, deSilver started to struggle in Ash's arms. "Hold still!" he grunted, almost stumbling.   
  
"The song!" she shrieked. "I know that song!!"  
  
Ash registered the radio still playing on the back of the vendor's cart something he'd tuned out while they'd set up the steal. The words sank in a chorus Layla? Leila? His foot almost caught on the gutter, and he cursed. There was no time!   
  
Ash kept running until he reached safety, and he was sure the man was far behind. He stoped to catch his breath and checked his surroundings, then turned to head back home, where he was due to meet the others. deSilver favoured him with a kick in the ribs, and he hissed another curse. "WHAT?!"  
  
"The song I heard!" she said insistently. "It was my song!"  
  
He shook his head impatiently; she was quite well-spoken for a four year old, but sometimes what she said was not clear "I don't get ya, kid."  
  
"I remember that song! From *before*!"  
  
He knew what that meant. The kid had no memory from before they'd found her, and all their probing had only been able to reveal a terrible fear of fire.  
  
"It's my name" she said softly, looking sad. She could almost hear the singing a deep, rumbly voice. But then it was gone, and it was just Ash again, carrying her on his shoulders and still breathing hard from the run.  
  
He stopped short, and she almost slid from his shoulders. "Your name?" He said slowly.  
  
She nodded. "I think I'm Leila. It sounds right." She looked anxiously at him, seeking approval. "Is that okay?"  
  
Ash swung her off his shoulders and held her up in front of him, just looking at her for a moment. Finally, he smiled. "Sure thing Leila."  
  
She reached out and wrapped her small arms around his neck in a tight hug, glad to have a little piece of herself back.  
  
  
Eight-year-old Leila deSilver stood up, wiping her hands on her baggy overalls. The little portable stove had been a nice steal, but she always tended to get herself a bit oily loading the fuel in it up. "Soup's up, you guys!" she called.  
  
Duane was in the next room, beating away at a punching bag. The quiet boy and best thief of the gang had only one love, and it was boxing. He was no heavyweight, but he'd won fistfights on the street again and again with his speed, agility and determination. He'd thus become almost the representative fighter for Ash's gang, and was proud of the position. The punching bag had been found at the local dump and he'd restuffed it and sewed the tarpaulin patches on it himself.  
  
The seventeen year old boy entered silently, as usual, without any verbal acknowledgment, but he favoured Leila with a warm smile and a nod. She smiled back, then frowned.  
  
"GUYS!! I said DINNER'S ON!! Get yer rear ends in here or I'll feed it to the alley fels!"  
  
Alexia appeared around the corner, grinning at Leila. "Keep yer pants on, kid. I wouldn't want ta miss out on yer splendid cookin', now, would I?"  
  
"Hey, you can cook it next time!" Leila retorted snippily. But she couldn't hide her grin; Alexia was like a mother to her and the teasing was almost mandatory.  
  
"It *is* my turn tomorrow!" Alexia pointed out, and laughed.  
  
Alexia Goldwing was sixteen years old, now, and growing into her elfin features. Although her blonde hair had been cut short for practical reasons, and she was a little too thin from the lack of food - or possibly from Leila's cooking - she was turning into a pretty young woman. She was currently dressed in a faded pair of jeans with holes in the knees, and a small pink shirt. No matter what she wore, she always managed to look waifish; she had the sort of face that made men - and boys - get all protective over her. Her personality was quite the opposite; although easy to get along with, she was very independent in both thoughts and actions. And she had Ash twisted around her little finger.  
  
Leila grinned at the thought as she turned back to stirring the soup, then frowned. Ash had been acting peculiar lately, and it had been worrying her. It had been worrying Alexia too, Leila could see that.   
  
But Lexi knew something about it that Leila didn't, and she wasn't going to tell. Leila worshipped the leader of the gang. Alexia didn't want to see her hurt. And the truth hurt. It was all too hard to shelter a child who had grown up on the streets, but as a surrogate mother Alexia had done her best. And there was one terrible truth she'd managed to hide from the child yet.  
  
Three of the other members of the group entered. The first was a fifteen year old, a tall, gangly boy with a rather morose expression; his name was Hallam McQuackin. His feathers were so pale cream they were almost white, and those small feathers above and around his beak were flecked with darker specks from the sun. His hair was light brown, and flopped forward into his grey eyes. Hallam's strong Caltec accent was what Leila loved most about him, that and the way he smiled. His smiles were rare enough, and like anything rare, precious when they came.  
  
The second was a short, stocky, fiery boy of about twelve - his name was Russel Redwing. His feathers were cream and his very short hair a flaming red. He had a good, if dirty, sense of humour, and was forever cracking some joke or another, or imitating someone until he had the others in stitches. But conversely, he also had a hot temper when he thought his honor or that of his friends was being challenged.  
  
The third boy was a rather new addition to the group. He wasn't talkative in the least, and his black eyes were watchful. His head was shaved, and his burning eyes and thick, black eyebrows were the centre of his otherwise pale, white face. When you looked at him, everything else seemed to fade away but those black eyes He was twenty one, a year older than Ash. He carried with him a kind of self-assurance, a type of control. Like Ash, but different. It made Leila uncomfortable. He also wasn't constant, unlike the other members of the group; he came and went as he pleased, and was sometimes gone for days at a time. He never stayed for all that long when he *was* around. And it was since his arrival that Ash had begun to change.  
  
His name was Zared Avic.  
  
The numbers in the group were down from when Leila had been found; back then they had numbered about ten. Ash explained that people were forever coming and going; and that you couldn't rely on anything to stay the same when you lived your life in a kind of limbo, as they did living on the streets.  
  
Still, Leila found a boring kind of sameness about the street life, forever hiding, stealing, eating, going hungry, stealing some more. But she'd never known anything else. If she had, she couldn't remember it.  
  
The good thing about the sameness was that it was comfortable. The basic structure of the gang still stayed the same - Ash lead, Alexia was there for him and for everyone else if the need arose, Duane stayed in the background but constantly there, a comforting presence, and Leila was the baby of the group. As much as she disliked it at times.  
  
The others had come and gone without affecting any of that. Except for Zared. Shortly after he had come, something had subtly changed in the power structure of the group. Alexia knew it, it was there in her long silences of late. Zared knew it too; his nasty smiles told her that better than any words ever could.   
  
Ash would go missing for days and nights sometimes. And when he was around, he was listless and hard to get along with. Leila didn't understand it, but didn't question it either, as much as she longed to. The only time she had, Alexia had gotten upset and had gone and had a harsh, whispered argument with Ash which ended with her storming out and not returning for a day and a half.  
  
Leila had finished her soup without even realising it. She looked at the empty bowl, then back up at the pot. There was still some left, but she wasn't hungry.  
  
The others were still eating, Zared slightly apart from them, in his own world. Through mouthfuls of soup, Russel was entertaining the others with his exaggerated re-telling of a bungled bag grab earlier that day which had ended up with Hallam being whacked over the head a few times by a little old lady wielding her handbag. Hallam didn't look amused.  
  
While they were talking, Leila got up and quietly slipped away. Someone else noticed her go, and presently got up and followed her.  
  
  
  
"Ash?" Leila whispered incredulously.  
  
He was lying on the floor of the old bathroom of the building. The place had always creeped her out; with it's musty dimness, it's rusting, rotting toilets and the cracked, dirty tiles on the floor. The rust spread around the place looked like dried blood.  
  
Ash was slumped against one of the walls, his head lolling back. One of his sleeves was rolled up, and an empty needle lay beside him. Leila dug the name up from her memory a syringe. Alexia had always told her never to touch one of these if she saw it. She looked back at Ash, heart thumping fast, and thought that he must have accidentally touched it and gotten hurt by it. It seemed the only explanation for why he was lying there, so still and quiet  
  
She knelt beside him, fearing for a moment that he was dead, but his chest rose and fell and his eyes moved beneath the lids as if he was in the grip of some terrible nightmare. "Ash" she whispered, touching his chest. "Wake up. Please. Yer scarin' me, Ash"   
  
As if the last part had somehow sunk through his stupor, Ash half-opened his eyes. Leila sucked in a sharp breath and bit back a scream, because his pupils were large and black, unseeing. The sight terrified her, and it brought her a kind of relief when his eyes glazed over and closed once more.  
  
Heart pounding, Leila considered running back to the others for help, but she was afraid. Afraid that if she left, Ash would breathe his last, and there would be no-one there to help him  
  
She gave him a gentle hug, then sat back to look around again. The syringe was still lying on the floor, and Leila carefully pushed it away with the toe of her sneaker. She closed her eyes and held Ash for a while, willing him to wake up. But even with her eyes closed, she could still see that empty, dirty syringe crouching malevolently on the tiles. Leila shivered and opened her eyes to make sure it was still lying there, just an innocent piece of plastic and metal.  
  
It was gone.  
  
A boot was there instead. The boot was attached to a leg, attached to a person. Zared. He was holding the syringe delicately between his fingertips. He tossed it almost carelessly into the rusty bin beside him, and folded his arms. "Hey, kid."  
  
"Zared! Something's wrong with Ash! He's hurt!"  
  
He gave Leila an unpleasant smile. "He's fine. Leave him."  
  
Uncertain now, Leila stood. "But- but, he needs help-" she faltered, but at that Zared gave such a snigger that she started back, and suddenly understood everything. She understood the missing patches of feathers in the crook of Ash's elbows, and she understood his long absences, and most of all she understood the times when the money seemed so very short, yet Zared had so much  
  
It was as if someone had flung her naked from the warm into a bank of snow. She gasped with shock and disbelief, and turned and ran, fighting her way past the heavy doors and knowing that Zared was watching her all the while, maybe smiling that sick, smug smile of his. She ran, blinded by tears, through the old halls she knew so well. She ran until a strong pair of arms grabbed her and swept her up, and held her tightly until she stopped fighting.  
  
Duane stroked Leila's short black curls out of her eyes and wiped her face dry with his shirt. When she quietened, he sat her down on the ground and knelt beside her. "You wanna talk about it?"  
  
Leila sobbed her story out to him, and he hugged her, not letting her see the anger growing on his face.   
  
"This can't go on much longer" he muttered after a time, and shook his head.  
  
But it did.  
  
  
  
Zared had moved on long ago. Fifteen-year-old Leila deSilver stood and reflected on the events of that day with a hollow kind of sadness. She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away, and dipped her cloth into the warm water again. She bathed Ash's forehead gently with it, and he stirred slightly in his drug-induced unconsciousness.  
  
Duane had long since become the leader of the group, if not in name, in function. He was still the same person he'd been years ago; Leila thought that he'd done all his growing up early on and was just waiting for everyone else to catch up. He was twenty two, now. It had been he who had found another, smaller place for the group when the old building had been demolished. This place wasn't condemned either, although they were certain it would be the next time the authorities came and had a close look at it. The landlord didn't want to shell out for repairs, and they all got the feeling he'd be just as relieved to take the insurance money and get out of Keltor City. They figured they'd at least get a few months out of it before they had to find somewhere new. Perhaps it would take them through the cold season.  
  
It was a tiny apartment with enough room to comfortably house three. Double that amount lived there. They were able to afford the rent because Alexia, now twenty one, waitressed in a seamy underground nightclub nearby - The Rook's Nest. Her pay was a pittance, but enough for the rent. The landlord wanted rent money in cash. He didn't ask any questions, and they asked none of him. They all liked it that way.  
  
Leila looked back down to Ash with a sigh. Alexia ignored Ash these days, apart from trying to convince him now and again to lose the habit. She said that if he made any sort of an effort, she'd back him up all the way. But he refused her help, and he didn't want to make an effort. Sometimes he said he would, but nothing ever came of it. Leila thought he said it just to get Alexia off his back.  
  
He wasn't around so much these days anyhow. He would disappear for days on end, stealing to support his habit, and come back stoned and hungry. He'd eat, sleep, and when he started coming down from the drugs he would disappear again.  
  
But he was here now. And that was all that mattered.  
  
Leila pushed his hair back from his face, tenderly. Emancipated as he was, sickly as he was, in spite of the bruises, and the dark rings under his eyes, he was still handsome to Leila. In her own way, she loved him. She was sure that was what it was. But she couldn't tell anyone, not even Alexia, for fear of looking stupid. Instead, she demonstrated her love for Ash in the way she looked after him when he was around; she fed him when he was weak, and washed his face, and cleaned up after him. She asked nothing in return but the rare smiles and thankyous he occasionally gave. Sometimes when he was asleep, and they were alone, she would stare down at him. Almost holding her breath, her hands trembling, she would run her hands down the side of his face and whisper to him that she loved him. She didn't think he ever heard, and maybe it was better that way.  
  
She pulled the cloth from his forehead and placed it back into the bowl of water. Someone entered the room behind her.  
  
"Oh. He's back." Alexia's voice was flat. Leila turned to see her. She was still dressed in the skimpy outfit and the heavy makeup her job required her to wear. Leila thought that it made her look stripped of her pride. She knew that Alexia thought so too, though Lex had never told her in words.   
  
Ash shifted and groaned. Leila looked back at him. "I think he's waking up."  
  
Alexia stepped forward. "Go on, Lei. Duane's almost got dinner ready."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Go on. I gotta talk ta him, alright?"  
  
Leila sighed, and left.  
  
  
Surprisingly enough, Ash stayed the next day. And the next. Leila wasn't sure what Alexia had said to him behind the closed doors, but whatever it was had inspired him to make an effort. The withdrawal started, soon enough, and the other boys started staying out of the way.  
  
Ash was feverish, and shivered compulsively. He ate occasionally, but was usually sick a short time after. Leila stayed with him, for a day, two days, more She cleaned him up when he was sick, she washed his forehead, she spoke soothing words to him when he was lucid enough to understand, and she awoke him from his screaming nightmares. Alexia had to keep working, but every moment she was at home she was at Ash's bedside, silent, watching over him right next to Leila.  
  
Duane popped his head in occasionally, but Leila got the impression that he really didn't believe Ash could manage to stay clean. Russel and Hallam made an uncomfortable visit or two. But only Leila stayed the whole time, watching, eating when Ash ate and sleeping on a mattress on the floor.  
  
He took a turn for the better, four days after he'd returned. He was almost completely well again within the week. He was quite lucid and awake by the seventh day, and it was then that Alexia bustled in and chased Leila out. Leila was dizzy with tiredness. She's barely slept a wink the whole time, barely eaten at thing. So when Alexia came home from work and shooed her out of Ash's room, urging her to go eat, she didn't put up much of an argument.  
  
Leila looked around the flat and found that the others were all out. She took a couple of pieces of bread from the breadbox, buttered them, and returned to Ash's room. The door was slightly open, and she peeked in.  
  
Alexia was kneeling beside Ash's bed, and he was sitting up slightly. She was feeding him a piece of fruit, a white dew melon by the looks of it. Expensive. Leila could just hear what they were saying.  
  
"We thought we lost you, Ash," Alexia murmured. "You were lucky. And so were we."  
  
Ash smiled up at her. "Thank you for being there for me" he said softly. "An' I'm the lucky one. Lucky ta have you."  
  
Leila frowned. It hadn't just been Alexia! She took a deep breath and was ready to enter and accept her own 'thank you' when something startling happened. Ash lifted an arm and put it around Alexia's neck, gently pulling her head down towards him a little. Her mouth was half-open, and Leila got the impression she was as startled as Leila was. But she didn't jerk back or push away.   
  
Leila gripped the door frame, her knuckles turning white as the couple in the room kissed. Tears filled her eyes, and she turned away from the loving scene, turned away from the warm little world Alexia and Ash now shared, out to her own cold, lonely one. She leaned against the door frame, her knees weak and her chest rising and falling slowly as she fought not to cry out with the loss she felt. Her first and last crush came tumbling down around her, and her heart broke.   
  
  
  
Ash didn't go back to drugs. His recovery was clean and complete. He and Alexia were giddily happy together, so happy that they were blind to what was happening to their youngest friend.  
  
Duane saw it, though. One day he took Leila aside and talked to her quietly. He told her about how Ash loved her, but that he loved her like a kid sister. He told her that somewhere out there was a guy who was just right for her, and it wasn't Ash. An odd expression passed over his face as he said it, but Leila didn't interpret it's meaning, too torn up to even really notice.  
  
She still couldn't help feeling alone.  
  
Ash found himself a full-time job as a cleaner in the Keltor City University, and after working there and mixing with the students for some time he began to consider completing his Senior Schooling and attending himself. He and Alexia spent hours together talking about the future, and their future never seemed to include Leila.  
  
The day they arrived back from a date and Alexia was wearing a very small diamond ring on her finger was the day Leila stopped caring.   
  
She smiled when they talked of future plans, she helped them hunt down an affordable apartment in the outer city limits of Keltor, and she attended their small, humble wedding. She shared every part of herself with them except the part she used to share so easily - her soul. She didn't tell them her deepest thoughts and feelings any more, and she wasn't sure they even noticed.   
  
The apartment they found was small, and Leila nodded and smiled and assured them that it was fine when they explained it would be too tight a squeeze for three people, what with the baby on it's way and all. Later, after the miscarriage and Alexia's discovery that she could never have children, Leila was there for her again, a shoulder to cry on.  
  
She promised to visit often, and she did. But soon something else came along to fill in her time.  
  
  
Duane worked as a night guard at a local factory; hard hours, demeaning work and little pay. Likewise, Russel and Hallam had jobs which brought money but little satisfaction. The day after her seventeenth birthday, Leila decided to start pulling her weight.  
  
She went to the nightclub where Alexia had once waitressed, looking for work. There she met the owner of the club, one Sal deWebb. The man was slime, she could see it from a mile off. But he had a job going. It wasn't exactly what Leila had had in mind, though.  
  
"How are you at dancing?"  
  
"Dancing?? Uhh"  
  
"Sweetheart, never mind. Here. Would ya put this on fer me?" He had rummaged around in a wardrobe, and pulled out some kind of very skimpy, spangly dress. Leila blinked.  
  
"Ya sure that's my size?"  
  
"Sweetheart, I'm sure." He grinned almost sharkishly. "Now go on. Behind that curtain there."  
  
Leila hesitated, then went. She remembered Alexia's waitressing uniform, and it was nothing like that. Once the skimpy outfit was on and she looked down at herself, she had a horrible feeling she knew what job she was going to be offered here. Worse yet, she wasn't sure whether she really wanted to turn the offer down. Times were tough.  
  
Still, she stepped out from behind the curtain, earning a whistle from Sal which was supposed to be complimentary and was actually slightly humiliating. "Spectacular, love!" Sal proclaimed. "Yer perfect fer the position!"  
  
Leila frowned. "Uh, actually, Mr deWebb, I was kinda hopin' fer a waitressing position. A friend of mine once worked here - Alexia Goldfeather."  
  
He shook his head. "Darlin', I remember Alexia. She didn't have yer figure. The pixie look is sweet, but it ain't so good in this industry. We're lookin' fer curves, here."  
  
Leila found herself slightly complimented. She'd always unconsciously compared herself to Alexia, with her waifish, pixie look, and found herself wanting. Too fat. Too _many_ curves, she'd thought. But now someone was telling her otherwise. Now someone was saying that she was prettier?  
  
She sat down in the plush seat in his office, smiling at him. Suddenly she felt a lot more confident. "Tell me more about this job."  
  
  
  
"I don't believe you." Alexia said flatly.  
  
It was two weeks since Leila had gained her job at the nightclub. She'd come to tell Alexia and Ash about her good fortune.  
  
"A stripper." Alexia continued, shaking her head.   
  
"Hey! That's exotic dancer! An' at least I got some work! I gotta start somewhere, right?"  
  
"Ahh, Lei, did it have ta be that, though?"  
  
"It's good money." Leila said stubbornly.  
  
"Money ain't worth riskin' what yer riskin'! Lei, yer gonna get yerself *hurt* doin' that kinda work! The people yer workin' with - yer employer - they're slime!"  
  
Leila stood up, angry and defensive. "Why can't you just be happy fer me fer a change?! Isn't anything I ever do _good_ enough fer ya?" She knew she was overreacting, but when she felt tears spring to her eyes, she couldn't face the thought of releasing them in front of Alexia. She turned and ran out. Close to tears, she flew down the stairs and almost collided with Ash, who was on his way up, back from work.   
  
"Leila?" he called, startled, but she ran on heedless.  
  
  
When she got back to the apartment, Duane was waiting. The other two boys were standing slightly behind him. The looks on their faces told Leila mountains before Duane even spoke. "Lei, we're bein' moved on. Tonight. The landlord came down and gave us a hundred bucks to vacate, now. Somethin's goin' on - he's in some kinda trouble wit' the law. I didn't ask." After this unusually long speech, Duane fell silent.  
  
Russel spoke up. "Lei, we packed your stuff."  
  
Tiredly, Leila went and picked up her bag of belongings. It was time to move on again.  
  
  
"I can't believe this" Russel griped, kicking at the snow.   
  
The small group stood huddled together on the sidewalk. Although they were dressed in their warmest clothes, the cold managed to bite through, seeming to pierce them to the bones.   
  
They had taken a bus to Keltor City Central. Keltor City wasn't as modern as DuCaine Metropolis; most of the buildings which rose up into the sky were grey stone and glass as opposed to the more modern white domes of the Metro. Now they stood, unsure of what to do. It was late at night, now, and the chances of finding somewhere to stay were slim.  
  
Leila tightened her denim jacket around her, cursing herself for not having sewn up her big jacket earlier. But she wasn't to have known that this was going to happen. _That,_ she told herself, _Is what ya get when ya let down yer guard._ She hoisted her bag further up on her shoulder - and felt a gentle tug on it. She spun with a yell, grabbing the wrist of the person who was now standing behind her.  
  
All hell broke loose.  
  
Fifteen or so teens leaped from the nearby alleyway, rushing to the defence of their friend. Leila, Duane, Hallam and Russel found themselves in the middle of an all-out fistfight.  
  
Leila ducked a flying fist and landed her own fist in the face of her attacker. "Mug me, willya?!" she screeched, and lashed out with her foot, catching him in the guts. He collapsed with a groan.  
  
Duane was fighting off two more over where he was standing, and doing quite well. Those surrounding him fell back and watched him carefully, ready to strike at the first sign of any weakness.   
  
Hallam and Russel were standing back-to-back, making it impossible for either of them to be attacked without first seeing the attacker approaching. Leila ducked away and scrambled clear of the fight for a moment. A shouted order came from one of the boys in the gang, and they fell back.   
  
The owner of the shout stepped forward. Leila disliked him immediately. It wasn't so much the way he looked - he was a medium height with short blonde hair and brown eyes, wearing black jeans and a sweatshirt, nothing particularly outstanding - it was more just a sense. Something in his swagger, his tone. "Where'd you learn ta fight like that?" he asked of Duane and his group in general.  
  
"Same place you did," Duane answered back, a little short of breath. "On the streets. We're just on the move right now lookin' fer a place ta stay. We're not lookin' fer trouble. Let us pass."  
  
The blonde rubbed his beak, considering. "Y'know ya could stay with us fer a while" he offered. "We got a good hangout, lotta room."  
  
Duane frowned, his black eyes sharp. "An' what's the catch, eh?"  
  
The other duck laughed. "Catch? Eh, hardly. Just the small matter of a rival gang which we can't seem ta defeat, right? Need a few more good fighters on our side. You guys is what we been lookin' for."  
  
Leila saw Duane glance at Russel and Hallam, considering. Hallam gave him a small nod. Russel, who was still shivering from the cold, was quick to agree. Finally, Duane looked towards Leila.  
  
She hesitated, not liking the look of the leader of the group. But it _was_ cold and they couldn't afford to pass up a good chance if it was just offered to them like this So finally, Leila nodded too.  
  
The blonde duck, who had been watching all this keenly, clapped his hands together. "Great! Then yer in!" He shook with Duane, smiling smarmily. "The name's Joss Steelwing. Welcome to the Destroyers."  
  
Leila caught Russel's wide grin. He mouthed, *The Destroyers*?? to her, and she covered a grin of her own. What kind of a stupid name was that?  
  
They found out, soon enough.  
  
  
  
The Destroyers were a gang of vandals and violent muggers who had been terrorising the populace of Keltor City Central. Terrorising in the truest sense of the word.  
  
People were afraid to venture out on the streets at night around there. In the first two weeks that Leila and her friends spent in the gang, they witnessed members pull off five muggings, two car robberies, one hotwiring which ended up with half the gang going on a noisy joyride, and too many vandalism incidents to count.  
  
The Destroyers were actually based in the subway system beneath Keltor, a clever if dangerous hideout. They had set up small camps, stocked out with mattresses, torches, candles and food, all through the older, closed-off sections of subway. They hid in the day, and came out at night. It was a poor, dirty way to live, but it was warm, and there was always enough food.   
  
Duane was far from happy in the group, but because he was the leader of a smaller group which had been engulfed into the larger one, he no longer had any authority to say so. Hallam withdrew even more than usual. Russel, on the other hand, seemed to find some satisfaction in the social aspect of the larger group, and quickly became well-liked by most of the members. He did shy away from the violence of the gang, though, and this prevented him from being completely happy there.  
  
Leila wasn't happy, either. But then, it had been a long time since she'd been completely happy anyway. She took it as an obstacle she'd have to pass before heading on to a hopefully easier period of life, like when she was eight, just before Ash had started on the drugs. But she was seventeen now, as good as an adult, and nothing was quite so simple anymore.  
  
  
Leila returned from work late one night, a few months later, to find Duane waiting for her. He was angry and depressed.   
  
"Leila, they beat up this little old lady, tonight!" he snarled. "Beat her up bad. Fer ten fucking bucks in her purse!"   
  
"What'd you do?"  
  
"What could I do?" he snapped, anguish under his tone. "They woulda had me too, fer interfering! Lei, we gotta get outta here."  
  
She shook her head, numbly. "You think they'd let us leave?"  
  
"No. We know too much about 'em now, we could turn informant an' give 'em all away. We gotta escape. Leave sometime when no-one's watchin', right? Get right outta this city." He took her arm. "I wanna show ya somethin', Lei."  
  
She followed him doubtfully. She didn't want to stay with the barbaric group, either, but she also didn't want to end up knifed and bleeding to death in some dirty alleyway because she'd tried leaving. A gut-wrenching feeling of premonition shot through her just then, but she shook it off.  
  
Duane took her to the small room he shared with Hallam and Russel. The room had once been sleeping quarters for the men who had worked underground, constructing this old section of subway. Like the tunnels, the rooms were long since abandoned.   
  
"Russ an' Hal ain't around right now. Which is a good thing, 'cos they don't know about this." Duane lifted up his mattress and reached into a thin slit in the material underneath. He drew out money - almost two hundred dollars.  
  
"Duane" Leila said uncertainly.  
  
"Some of it's what the ol' landlord gave us. Some of it's earnings I saved up from the old job. I figure once we got enough money, we can get ourselves outta Keltor altogether. Maybe head over to DuCaine Metro, try an' make a real life fer ourselves. Jus' you an' me, sweetheart."  
  
Leila looked at him sharply. "Yeh, that's nice, Duane. But there's one thing botherin' me, y'know?"  
  
"An' what's that?"  
  
"What about Russel and Hallam?"  
  
A pained look shot over Duane's face at that. "Lei, I'm not so sure Russel even wants ta leave any more. An the more people we try ta take with us, the more chance there is we'll get caught." He took her hands, looking desperate. "Please, Lei, say you'll come. I wanna be free of all this but I want you, too."  
  
There was a moment of stillness between them, as Leila realised what he meant. Her heart leaped into her throat. Duane's grip on her hands tightened, and then he slid his arms around her. They met in the middle for a gentle kiss. And soon enough, something more.  
  
  
That first night held more pain than pleasure for Leila, but those nights that came after were better, and kept getting better, as Duane had promised. They fitted together as easily and naturally as if it had meant to be.   
  
Other things were changing, too. At the nightclub, Leila had been approached by a man who had offered her work with better pay than what she was getting. The work was different though. It involved standing on street corners and selling her body to men. Leila refused him flatly. She did have her limits.  
  
The final change was a new arrival to the gang. A little girl  
  
  
Nine-year-old Nylessa Drakely shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. _'Maybe I should have worn more practical clothing'_ she thought with a grimace. _'In fact, maybe this wasn't such a good idea at all'_ But there was no way she was returning, shamefaced, to her batty old aunt in that gigantic mansion. As far as Nylessa was concerned, she'd been on her own since her parent's accident. It was time she started living that way. And returning to her aunt with her proverbial tail between her legs was not the best way to show her independence.   
  
Night was falling on the icy Keltor streets, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. _'On the other hand, being dead isn't a good way of showing independence either' _Nylessa thought with a sigh.  
  
She picked up her small case of clothing and looked around. In all the movies she'd seen about kids on the street, there was always some gang or other to adopt the new kid, take him or her in and teach him or her the ways of the streets. As it got dark, Nylessa began to doubt the validity of those films.  
  
An eerie laugh echoed up from a grate set into the pavement nearby. Nylessa jumped and almost slipped on the icy pavement. Shivering, she carefully ventured forward and peered into the vent. "I say Is anyone down there?" Her accent sounded out of place in the cold, dirty streets.  
  
The was a soft growl from behind her. Nylessa spun in fright, almost dropping her case. But no-one was there.  
  
"I know you're there!" she called. "Come on out! I'm not afraid of you!"  
  
Dark shapes detached themselves from the very shadows of the alleyways, slinking and sliding out to face her, catlike in the darkness. Teenagers of every color, shape and height. All looked nasty. The one nearest to Nylessa was a blonde boy. He had a sharkish, almost insane smile on his face. The effect was supposed to be terrifying. And it was.  
  
"Little rich kid all alone on the streets" he growled, leering at her.  
  
"Yeah, where's yer mommy and daddy, rich kid?"  
  
"They're dead!" she said bravely. "And I'm not afraid of you."  
  
"Oh, you will be" The blonde boy leered at her, advancing slowly. The others advanced with him. Nylessa took a step backwards, and another.  
  
"What's in the case, little girl?"  
  
"M- my things" She was faltering now, uncertain. They really did look as though they might hurt her. "You'd better not harm me!" she yelled. "I'll call for help! The police will come!"  
  
The blonde boy looked delighted. "Help?" he crowed. "Police?!" He turned to the other kids, affecting fear. "Didya hear that, guys! Little rich kid is gonna call the police!" He turned back to her, pretending to tremble, eyes wide. But the sardonic grin and the tone in his voice remained. "Oh, no! Not the police! Please, little girl, anythin' but that!"  
  
The rest of the group laughed, a nasty chuckle that washed over them. Their eyes gleamed at her from the darkness.  
  
He stepped closer and closer. Nylessa took another step back. He leaned in close.  
  
"Boo."  
  
Nylessa stepped back once more, and her foot found empty air. She fell, into heat, and darkness.  
  
  
Nylessa came to, slowly. Her eyes were gummed closed somehow, and her forehead throbbed unbearably. She was lying on a hard, cool surface. Concrete.   
  
"Shh don't move," someone said softly. A moment later, Nylessa felt a warm, damp cloth touch her face, wipe at it for a while. When it touched her forehead, she hissed in pain and jerked her head back. This only caused the throbbing to worsen, and she moaned.  
  
"I said not to move" The female voice above her was vaguely reprimanding, and Nylessa forced open her eyes.  
  
A young woman was kneeling beside her, holding a washcloth. The cloth had a large, dark stain in the middle - dirt?  
  
"Ya had a bit of a fall," the woman told her. "Stay still, ya got a cut on yer forehead."  
  
Nylessa tried to focus on the woman. Now that her vision had cleared a little, she could see that her saviour wasn't so much woman as teenager. About eighteen or so, perhaps. She had just looked older than she was, at first. She was a very light grey color, silvery in the dim light, and her hair was long, thick and black. She wore simple clothes - jeans, a shirt and a warm jacket. It wasn't as cold in here as it was in the streets above.  
  
Nylessa blinked. Where _was_ 'here'? It appeared to be some kind of underground tunnel. Lying on her back as she was, she was looking at the concrete ceiling of the tunnel. Almost directly above her was a small square of starlight. The open vent through which she had fallen. One of the gang outside must have opened it when she wasn't looking, and then they had driven her back until she had fallen into it. Perhaps their plan had been to knock her out and rob her.  
  
Nylessa gasped and tried to sit up, but was restrained by the young woman. "My case!" she croaked. "Where is it?"  
  
The woman looked sorrowful for a moment. "They went through it. They took the money and some of the clothing, and threw away the rest." She looked down for a moment, seeming to be remembering something.  
  
_"Worthless junk!" Joss snarled, tossing the case away. The photographs fluttered about, and when he had stalked off Leila quietly gathered the fallen pictures and placed them in her pocket._  
  
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a few tatty photographs. "These are yours," she said quietly, handing them over.  
  
"Thank you" Nylessa whispered. "They're all I have left"  
  
  
After some convincing, Joss allowed the young girl to stay with them, providing that Leila looked out for her and made sure she didn't get into any trouble.  
  
After a few months of patient training with Duane, Nylessa started to show some talent for pickpocketing. But Duane's mind was hardly on training a little girl. He had bigger things to think about.  
  
Russel had found the money. He'd tripped over the mattress late one night, and seen a note poking out the side. After an angry confrontation with Duane, the older duck had agreed to cut both Russel and Hallam into the deal. Leila was relived, and told him so. She'd hated the thought of leaving them behind  
  
Meanwhile, the gang continued their reign of terror on the streets, unhindered. Leila heard that the Brotherhood of the Blade had begun expanding, setting up outposts away from their hometown, Ducaine Metropolis. Keltor City had been one of the first places they'd set up. This was all a blessing to Joss and the Destroyers; it meant that the police force dedicated more men, time and resources to tracking down the Brotherhood members in town, and less to dealing with a few petty vandals.  
  
Joss began to become lax in his safety measures as things cooled off on the streets; and again, this ran in the favour of Duane's plan of escape. A few weeks after Leila's eighteenth birthday - she'd always placed her birth date on the first of December, having no real idea of when it was - she and her friends made their decision. They chose the date for their escape; and it couldn't have been planned better  
  
New Year's Eve  
  
  
Leila shivered, hugging herself for warmth. "Yeh, beautiful view, Duane. But why'd ya bring me up here?"  
  
Duane looked over the city. The sunset stained the buildings red; the sky a violent purple. On impulse, Leila took her little sketchpad out of her jacket, and sketched Duane as she saw him there; sitting on the edge of the skyscraper, pensive, staring out over the blood-red city. The colors were so beautiful, she thought Perhaps, some day, she would try painting it. Some day when she could afford paints; and time.  
  
"I'm worried, Lei" he murmured. "I don't want to scare you wit' this. But Things I've seen Oh!" With a growl of frustration, he turned back to her. Leila slipped the pad and pencil back in her pocket, and watched him silently. "I can't find the words" he muttered. "I've never been good at that."  
  
She shrugged. "S'okay. C'mon, what's been worryin' ya?"  
  
"Too many people are involved" he muttered. "I got such a bad feelin' about this."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Yer referrin' to Russel an' Hallam, right? C'mon, Duane ya gotta trust _some_ people in life!"  
  
"No you don't," he said flatly. "An' it's safer if ya don't."  
  
Leila shook her head, putting it down to one of his moods. "Everything's gonna be fine, hon. Yer in charge. I trust in ya." She smiled and took his hand, sitting beside him on the edge of the skyscraper.  
  
Duane wasn't willing to be cheered up, though. "Lei, promise me somethin'. If anythin' goes wrong, ya get outta here, right? This is no place fer a girl like you."  
  
She smiled, a little sadly, then. "Ain't it?"  
  
Wordlessly, he squeezed her hand. They stayed there until the night cold set in.  
  
  
  
"Godsdamnit! Where the hell IS he?" Duane resumed his pacing at the mouth of the Main Tunnel.  
  
Hallam shook his head. "I have no idea. Haven't seen 'im all day, as a matter o' fact."  
  
Duane cursed quietly. "I KNEW somethin'd go wrong" he muttered, and stopped pacing. "We have to go without him."  
  
Leila sighed; she'd known it was only a matter of time before he reached that conclusion. Russel hadn't shown up. They'd waited an hour.  
  
"Alright," Duane continued. "We take the Main Tunnel up to the old Beaking Street station. No-one goes there. From there we continue down the tracks to the new section. The ten-to-twelve train should be the last one through; after that we go up through the regular exit and try ta blend into that crowd. It's New Year's Eve; even if Joss has scouts hangin' around, they'll be too drunk or too distracted ta see us."  
  
Leila and Hallam nodded, they'd both heard it before.  
  
"Stick wit' me. Get lost, and we don't have the time ta turn back. We've wasted too much already. We gotta be outta the city centre by dawn."  
  
Hallam was silent, and Leila saw him cast one last glance toward the doorway, looking for Russel. But no-one entered, and he sighed. "Aye. Let's go."  
  
  
"Holy shit" Leila whispered, and grabbed Duane by his collar. "There!"  
  
Duane looked to where she was pointing, across the crowded station and saw it. One of Joss's scouts, his henchmen. Always armed, and always dangerous. _Believe me,_ Joss had threatened, _if anyone tries ta desert our merry little group here, one o' these guys'll find ya. He'll hunt ya down, and the penalty fer deserting the Destroyers is harsh.  
  
_He'd never enlightened them on what the penalty was, and none of them had ever asked.  
  
"We gotta find another way" Duane said between his teeth.  
  
Leila glanced around, desperately, then spotted something set into the wall above. "The air vents!"  
  
Duane nodded, latching onto her idea. "Great! Hallam, give Lei a leg-up. Then me, then I'll reach down an' pull ya up."  
  
The tall duck set about this task seriously, and with one heave, Leila was up at the vents. She examined the screws which held the grate covering the shaft opening in place they were loose already!  
  
"This is our lucky day" Leila muttered, and one by one, she pulled the screws out. The grate came lose, and she lowered it to Hallam, who handed it to Duane. Then, with a heave of Hallam's hands, Leila was inside the ventilation shaft.  
  
  
"There's light ahead" she exclaimed, wriggling forward. Leila was bruised, dusty and tired. She'd never had the wonderful experience of vent travel before, and hoped to never have it again.   
  
The light was a faint, reddish color, probably due to the red mood Delos, which was out at the moment, casting its' bloody glow. Sure enough, when Leila reached the grate in the roof of the shaft, she could see the War Moon through the grate. They appeared to be below an alleyway of some kind. It was dark, and quiet. She felt a hot surge of success run through her veins.  
  
The screws were loose here, too. "An' I always thought I had bad luck" Leila laughed, as she pushed the grate up and out. She pulled herself up into the alleyway, then turned back to help Hallam unfold his long body from the confining shaft. Duane squirmed out himself.  
  
"Famous last words," Joss chuckled.   
  
They all froze.  
  
  
_To be continued_   
  
  


---end---  
  
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* * *

Tania Walker  
[deSilver@myrealbox.com][1]

This story copyright © 1999 by Tania Walker  
Most recent revision Saturday, 6 February 1999. 

   [1]: MAILTO:deSilver@myrealbox.com



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